


xenization

by regionals



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: ill update tags as I post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: Tyler finds himself sitting behind the shed in his back yard in the middle of January in fucking Ohio, sitting in six inches of snow, with an almost full bottle of his mother's Ativan in one hand, and a liter of water in the other when he decides that he needs to leave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know how often ill update this but i had a fic that started like this a long time ago that i never posted & that i lost so i want to rewrite it (at least what i remember of it)

**xenization | the act of traveling as a stranger**

 

Tyler finds himself sitting behind the shed in his back yard in the middle of January in fucking Ohio, sitting in six inches of snow, with an almost full bottle of his mother's Ativan in one hand, and a liter of water in the other when he decides that he needs to leave.

Let's back track, though.

Let's back track to that morning. Everything had already been building up, for months at least, but that morning Tyler hit a breaking point. He's the kind of person who does most everything on a whim, and he doesn't make prior plans to do anything, not really, at least. But that morning—oh, man, that morning—it was a bad one.

He woke up feeling _off._ Just… off. Not good, not necessarily bad, but just _off._ He was sitting on the counter in his parent's kitchen, not his, he doesn't have a kitchen, or a home now that he thinks about it, but he was sitting there, eating cereal from a paper bowl, when his mother had walked in. She started asking him questions, as usual.

This happened a lot. She just… asks questions. Not normal ones, though. She would ask him about his future, and what he was going to do about it. She would ask him about college, ask him if he was going to spend the rest of his life wallowing in self pity, ask him if he was going to just die rather than go to college and make her _proud._

That's his thing. Tyler—he strives to make his parents proud, but when his mother stood there, basically admitting he was a failure—he just snapped. It wasn't an external thing, but rather a mental thing.

She kept going on, asking when he was going to find someone, or try to find someone, asked him when he would get married, asked him about kids, about a job, about just being a fucking _success,_ and he just… he sat there at took it. He didn't answer her, just sat there, eyes kind of glazed over, as he continued to eat his Cheerios until he was scraping at the small amount of milk pooling in the bottom of the bowl.

His mother has a cycle with the questions. It starts with questions, mostly innocent and seemingly harmless ones, but then it gets painful, and venomous and insulting and any other word having to do with toxicity alive. Almost every fucking day this happens, and after a while, abuse can start to tear anyone down.

So that's when he decided that he was going to kill himself. It wasn't premeditated for more than ten hours, but after everyone had gone to bed, he'd grabbed his mother's bottle of Ativan and a bottle of water before slipping on a pair of boots and walking outside to sit in six inches of fucking snow, trying to work up the nerve to actually do it.

Both his parents—neither of them seem to care about his depression. They're too worried about _money,_ too worried about his future rather than him trying to take care of himself in that moment. Too worried about the long run. Tyler hates looking at the bigger picture. He likes living in the moment, doing things for himself, but he hasn't had the chance to do that in a long time, at least not since he was a child.

They don't seem to care about the mood disorder that's been untreated for most of his life, they didn't care that he was struggling with that, struggling not to give up, struggling not to hurt himself, they didn't care when he actually did hurt himself; they just yelled and shamed him and didn't try _helping_ him. It just fucking sucked.

So, that's what leads him to his current predicament.

He's staring at his hands, trying to decide what to do. He tries finding another choice, an alternative to killing himself, before just deciding, _“I need to leave.”_ He says it out loud a few times, “I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to get the fuck out of here, I just need to go.”

Yet he keeps sitting there, staring at his fucking hands, before figuring out the next step. He pulls his lighter out of his pocket, the one he's been successful at hiding from his parents, and he pulls his suicide note out of the other pocket before setting it on fire. He burns it, and watches the flame eat up the paper and the ink, until it's gone.

Whatever he just did—it has some sort of effect on Tyler, because he starts crying, and shaking uncontrollably. He cries, and cries, and screams a little bit, and he's surprised no one in his house wakes up, surprised no one else in the neighborhood says anything, but he cries and screams, repeating, “I don't want to die,” over and over to himself until he just fucking _can't_ anymore.

Then, and only then, does he stand up, and stumble back into his house. He almost politely sets the bottle of Ativan and the bottle of water on the counter, and doesn't even bother to kick his shoes off as he walks through the house, surely tracking mud and snow everywhere, before ascending the stairs.

In his room, he closes the door, and flicks on the light. The analog clock next to his twin sized bed reads _2:02,_ but he barely registers it as he drags the ridiculously large carry on bag that he used to share with one of his brothers whenever his family would have to travel overseas to visit family. He empties it of all the little tchotchkes that they'd all forget to take out after trips. Some were old, some were kind of new, but either way they littered the floor of his bedroom.

He throws the carry on back onto his bed, and starts rifling through his closet and dresser, grabbing all of his favorite clothes, and stuffing them into the bag. The last few things to get stuffed into the bag is his laptop, laptop charger, and his phone charger. After zipping the bag up, but before leaving, he turns his phone on, checks his bank account, and after seeing he had a little under fifteen hundred dollars, he stuffed his carry on into his car and started driving towards the nearest ATM. After that, he heads to the nearest airport, unsure on where he was going to go, but knowing that he never wanted to see Columbus, Ohio, ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a car, a torch, a death is probably going to play kind of an important role in this fic, so watch out, my dudes.

**_art by me. (ao3: regionals, twitter/instagram: rcgional, tumblr: cliquearts.)_ **

 

Tyler finds himself at a Starbucks near LAX to use the internet and to charge his phone. By using the internet, he means that he's on Craigslist looking for apartments that don't require a lease or a security deposit beforehand, and he's also working on fudging a resume in a different tab because, hey, rent isn't free, and he needs to get a job as soon as possible.

Tyler finds a guy willing to let him move in that day, so he splurges on a seventy five dollar cab ride from the Starbucks to the apartment complex. It's in a part of Los Angeles that seems a little sketchy, but Tyler decides not to question it in favor of just having a place to stay.

His new landlord, who's named Joe, he learns, gives him a tour of the apartment. There's one bedroom, one bathroom, a tiny living room with a mysterious stain on the carpet and a hole in the wall that's been sloppily covered up, then a kitchen without a fridge. “Last tenant stole the fridge, and I'll be honest, this is a shitty place to live, but it's shitty enough that I ain't giving you a lease or making you pay a security deposit.”

Tyler has a bit of trouble understanding him through the lisp, but he manages. “Alright. Um. When's the first month's rent due…?”

“Two weeks.” Joe scratches the back of his head and bites his cheek for a moment. “You need an extension?”

“Yeah, I might. I only have about eight hundred bucks in my bank account right now. I still need to find a job.” Tyler frowns, looking around the living room, sizing the place up.

“Listen, kid, give me a few days, and I'll talk to a friend. See if he can hook you up with a gig. You got any hobbies or skills?”

“I can sing and I'm not half bad at writing, but that's not really the kind of thing people look for when you apply for a part time job. I got a fudged resume, though.”

“You can sing?” His interest piques suddenly, and Tyler's just slightly taken aback.

“Uh, yeah. I'm not half bad at that either, I guess. I can play piano and acoustic guitar too, but that's… yeah. Irrelevant, really.”

“Oh, no, it's not irrelevant. Here, um,” He produces a sharpie out of nowhere, then asks, “do you have any paper on you?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I'm fresh out, sorry.”

“Alright, well, give me your arm,” He just grabs Tyler's arm, and writes an address and a name down. “Go here, and ask for Andy. Tell him Joe sent you, tell him you just moved to LA, and tell him you can sing and that you need a job. Pay will probably be for shit unless someone rich gives you a tip, and you'll have to work in the evenings, but it's better than nothing, and should be enough to pay rent, bills, and for groceries each month.”

“Geez, dude, thanks, actually.”

“No problem, man. I've been in your situation a few times, and I get that you need all the help you can get. I'll waive your rent for this month, and I'll look into getting utilities turned on ASAP. By the way, if you want to buy at least an air mattress, there's a Walmart that's about a fifteen minute walk from here.”

With that, Joe hands Tyler a key, and walks out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

The address Joe had given Tyler was a thirty minute walk from his apartment. Tyler's dressed in a floral button up, a black denim jacket, the tightest jeans he owns, and the combat boots he'd arrived to Los Angeles in. He subconsciously fiddles with his hair for a moment before walking into the bar-slash-diner he'd been standing outside of.

When he walks in, the guy behind the counter, whose name tag reads, _'Gabe the Babe,'_ grins courteously, and says, “What can I get you?”

“U-um...” Tyler's fumbles with the piece of paper in his hands that he'd written the address plus a few other things down on. “Uh… Fuck it, alright, can I like… talk to Andy?”

 _Gabe the Babe,_ or Gabe, as Tyler is going to call him, raises his eyebrows, but excuses himself by lifting a finger and saying, “One moment,” before slipping into the back of the bar-slash-diner.

When he returns, he's followed by a fucking body builder who is covered just about head to toe in tattoos, and Tyler immediately thinks, _'Oh, good fucking god, I'm going to get murdered,'_ to himself.

The guy, who Tyler is going to assume is Andy, steps up to him, and examines his body, as if to size him up. His voice is rather soft, gentle even, and not at all what Tyler was expecting. “What do you want?”

“A lot of things, but, um, J-Joe told me to come here and to ask for you…?”

At that, his eyebrows shoot up, similarly to how Gabe's did a few minutes prior. “Joe? Joe Trohman?”

“Uh, yeah, I think. Just—um—he told me to tell you that I, and I quote, just moved to LA, can sing, and need a job. I don't—I don't know what I'll be doing, but I only got six hundred bucks left in my bank account, man. I'm a little desperate.”

Andy squints for a split second, but says, “Follow me,” as he turns around. Tyler obeys, warily, and makes sure to have his phone, which hasn't been cut off yet, in his hand when he does. He's lead into an office that looks kind of like a lounge as well.

There's two other men in there, playing cards and smoking cigarettes. Either of them look up at Tyler with slightly bored looks on their faces. Tyler stays silent, and stands in the doorway, watching as Andy snatches the cigarettes from the two men, making a remark about lung cancer and, “I fucking told you not to smoke in the office, you pricks,” as he stubs the cigarettes out and sets the ash tray on a shelf that's higher up than either of the other men can reach.

If Tyler wasn't scared shitless, he would've laughed.

Andy plops down into a desk chair, and props his feet up on a desk, motioning Tyler to sit on the loveseat next to the doorway. The two other men, aside from Andy, in the room look kind of like vultures. “Patrick, Frank, put the cards away, and Kid, I want you to sing for us.”

Tyler's eyes widen. “U-uh… I don't… I don't really perform…? Um, usually, at least.”

The guy with black hair rolls his eyes. “Really, Andy? He doesn't _perform.”_

“Joe sent him.”

“Joe sends everyone,” The other guy, who has coppery blonde hair, speaks now. “Kid, what's your name?”

“Tyler Joseph.”

“Alright, Tyler Joseph, my name is Patrick. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

The black haired guy who Tyler's just going to assume is Frank rolls his eyes again. “Andy, you can't hire him. He's nineteen. Gotta be twenty one to work in a bar.”

“Shut the fuck up, Frank,” Patrick throws a card at him, and he bats it away. “You don't have to be twenty one to work in a bar.”

“C-Can I ask what I would be doing if I, um, worked here…?” Tyler bites at one of his nails, and fidgets with the small keyring in his left hand.

“Well,” Andy drawls out as he crosses his fingers together. “If you _performed,_ you'd be busing tables in the mornings, then you'd go home until eight, which is when performers start, you know, performing.”

Tyler stays quiet for a few minutes, before caving. “Just—look—I'm not a confident guy. I'm ballsy enough to move to Los Angeles with only a few hundred bucks, but singing is just… That's kind of big for me, I guess. _But,_ if one of you can produce a piano within the next ten minutes I think I can sing something.”

Andy flicks his hand towards the door, and, begrudgingly, Patrick and Frank both get up to go find at least a keyboard. “So, Tyler, you going to spit out a Foreigner cover, or do you got something more interesting?”

“I don't even listen to Foreigner. I only know, like, part of Don't Stop Believing, so don't worry. I've kind of got, um, an original piece. Lyrically it's finished, but I still need to find someone to lay down a beat for it that actually makes sense. It still sounds alright with just, uh, piano, though.”

“What's it called?”

Tyler fidgets even more. He hasn't shared his music with anyone, other than his one thousand two hundred and eighty three SoundCloud followers. Even then, though, it's anonymous, and no one knows who he is or what he even looks like. They just know him as 'twofaced.'

“A Car, A Torch, A Death.”

“Huh. Interesting name.”

As if on cue, Patrick comes back in with a keyboard, and he plugs it into a wall while Frank sets up the stand for it. Tyler slowly gets up, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't shaking a little from anxiety once he got his fingers into the proper position. He presses a few keys, as if to test the waters, before saying, “Fuck it,” and getting on with it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Josh, stage left.

Tyler takes home a collective ninety seven dollars just from tips after working his first day at the bar-slash-diner, which also happens to be his second day in Los Angeles. He walks to the Walmart again, and buys a lock box to keep his money in until he can get another bank account. His parents still have access to his old/current one, sadly. Of course, he'd withdrawn all the money, but he was afraid of putting any more money into it, thinking his parents might try taking it.

Along with the lock box, he buys a simple cooking pot, and eight cans of food. Tyler wished he had a fridge to store actual food in, but he doesn't, so he figured he'd make do with canned food cooked on the stove until he could afford to buy, at least, a mini fridge. Also, plastic silverware, paper plates, and paper bowls were honestly a godsend to Tyler right now.

After _actually_ getting home, Tyler takes his first shower. Joe had stopped by on his second day with a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, body wash, and a bar of soap for him, all of which Tyler planned to use sparingly. He stares at his naked form in the full length mirror. His body is a little distorted from the two cracks in the mirror that'd been glued together haphazardly, and the mirror itself is a little smudged, but it doesn't stop Tyler from just _staring._

He's probably reading into it too much, but he thinks he looks different. He doesn't look as tired, or as defeated, and he definitely feels the change inside as well. He stares at the scars on his thighs, his hips, and his lower abdomen. They're a stark contrast to his tanned skin. Usually, Tyler would be ashamed, and would be turning from the mirror immediately to avoid thinking about them, but right now he just… doesn't care. They're there, and they aren't going to go away, so he's just going to have to deal with them.

Eventually, after making sure that the one towel he'd purchased the previous day was laid out on the counter, he steps over the boundary of the bath tub, and pulls the shower door closed before pressing himself to the wall as to avoid being assaulted on all fronts by cold water. He jerks his hand out once in a while to check the temperature of the water, and only moves from his place once it's lukewarm.

The water pressure is about the same as it was at his parent's house. Not too harsh, but also not too delicate and gentle. Tyler scrubs his body and washes himself as quick as he can, mostly because he's already just a little worried about the water bill. He isn't sure how much it's going to be, but given that it's California, he doesn't trust anything, at all.

Tyler towels himself dry after his shower, and slips on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt, before blowing up the air mattress that'd deflated a bit over the course of the day. It wasn't that comfortable, but the two pillows and the pretty alright fleece blanket Tyler had purchased along with it kind of made up for the not so comfortable air mattress.

Either way, he sleeps decently, until his alarm goes off at seven.

He gets up again, puts on deodorant, then a decent outfit, before walking to the bar-slash-diner. He walks in, greets Gabe, who is half-dozing off at the counter, then walks into the back.

There's a kitchen to his right, then a wall with a few forms listing schedules for the morning shifts in the diner, and then time slots for performances in the evenings. Currently, Tyler works from eight to one, then he goes home until eight, and comes back in time to sing a few songs before he either just goes home, or helps whoever is working the bar by bar tending. Of course, it's only been a day, but that's what Andy has told Tyler was expected of him. His wage was minimum, but he got to keep whatever he made in tips, so that was kind of a plus. Just kind of.

Tyler kind of fumbles around, trying to find a rhythm to the rhyme while he buses tables. He takes orders once in a while, too, and serves people as well. The first full day of working he learns that a certain _demographic_ tends to frequent the bar-slash-diner.

He figures it out when he catches a man at least fifteen years his senior checking his ass out. Usually Tyler would probably be creeped out, and, actually, he is creeped out, but he uses this to his advantage. He indulges the man when he tries flirting, and he tries his best to come off as the definition of promiscuity. It works and he gets a fifty dollar tip out of it.

Tyler walks up to the bar after the creep had left, flashes a fifty dollar bill, and almost laughs at the way Gabe curses in a different language. "Christ, _boy,_ how'd you do that?"

"You know that guy that just left? He was _totally_ checking me out, so I flirted a little bit, and bent over to pick up my pen at a few very convenient times."

Gabe clicks his tongue. "You're smart. Using your looks to your advantage. A tip, though—invest in some tighter jeans and a tighter shirt, and start using a little bit of concealer on your eye bags.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the advice.”

“Any time, kiddo.”

Tyler mentally rolls his eyes as he goes to clean off a table. Gabe acts as if he's in his thirties, but, truthfully, he's not a whole lot older than Tyler is.

 

* * *

 

Tyler ends up shutting his phone off on his way home that night. He'd blocked his entire family from calling him, and even uninstalled Skype, but somehow they all found a way to keep pestering him. Okay, alright, his family is probably worried sick, but Tyler's legally an adult, and he doesn't have to answer to them, at least not right now.

He's probably ten minutes from his apartment when he sees a man sitting against a fence with his knees pulled to his chest. Tyler was going to just continue on his way, and not stop, but of course those plans change when he hears the man crying. Tyler taps him on the shoulder, and when his head shoots up, he sees that this person isn't a man, but rather a boy, probably the same age as he is. “Are you alright?”

The boy's lip wobbles, and he chokes on a sob as he's shaking his head rapidly.

“Um. Do you live near here…?”

He shakes his head again, and Tyler watches as another wave of tears washes over him. He wipes his nose off on his sleeve.

“Do you need to call your parents…?”

He looks absolutely _terrified_ the second the question leaves Tyler's mouth.

“Okay, okay, we won't call your parents. That doesn't have to happen. Do you need a place to sleep tonight?”

He nods weakly, so Tyler holds his hands out, and helps the boy stand up. He looks frail, and his cheeks are a little sunken in. His hair is greasy, and his clothes aren't the cleanest either. He's a few inches shorter than Tyler, and just screams _meek._

 

* * *

 

The boy sits stiffly on Tyler's air mattress, staring intently at a spot on the floor, and sniffling once in a while.

“Um. S-sir, I guess, I don't know your name, but, uh… Do you want something to drink?”

“Josh.”

“Huh?” Tyler's not sure if he heard him.

“My name.”

“Josh?”

He nods.

“Alright. Uh, Josh, do you want something to drink?”

He nods again.

“Alright, well, I don't have any cups, but are you gonna be alright if I leave for a few minutes to walk to the vending machine down the hall?”

He nods once again, so Tyler tries to be speedy as he goes to buy a few bottles of water. He kind of laughs, to himself, of course, because three days ago, he was holding the exact same one, contemplating on whether or not he was going to kill himself. He shakes the thought out of his head quickly, though, because he has a more pressing matter at hand.

Josh is in the same spot, unsurprisingly, and his eyes are still flowing as Tyler hands him one of the water bottles. He sets the other one on the kitchen counter, before walking back over to his small living room to sit in front of Josh. “How old are you?”

Josh hands Tyler the bottle of water, and makes an opening motion with his hands. “Seal is too tough. Eighteen.”

Tyler opens it for him, and hands it back. “I'm nineteen.”

“What's your name?”

“It's Tyler.”

Josh nods as he takes little baby sips from the bottle of water.

“Um. It's—it's probably not my place to ask any questions but… like… I don't know how to phrase it.”

“Parents are ridiculously abusive and I've been on my own for two months. That what you wanted to hear?”

“In the least nosiest way possible, yeah.”

“Can I ask about you?” He wipes at his eyes again, even though it does virtually nothing.

“Mom's abusive and dad's inattentive. Almost tried killing myself, so I ran away. I've been on my own for a grand total of two days now.” Josh nods, and they sit there in silence for a few more minutes before Tyler starts talking again. “You look like you haven't eaten in a while. Um. Do you want to go take a shower while I order take out or something…? You can borrow some clothes too.” _Speaking of, I need to either find a washer and dryer, or find a laundromat that's within walking distance._

He nods again and wipes his nose on his jacket sleeve for the second time, before standing up, and asking, “Where's your bathroom?”

“The door to the left in the hall. There's a towel in there. I've used it, like, one time, so if you don't care about that then you can use it I guess. I'll set some clothes out next to the door, alright?”

“Okay.”

Josh doesn't say anything else that night besides a mumbled, “Thank you,” when Tyler hands him a carton of pork fried rice after his shower, or the even quieter, “Good night,” before they fall asleep, sharing Tyler's small and not overly cozy air mattress.


	4. Chapter 4

Josh is gone by the time Tyler gets home the next afternoon.

The nineteen year old is a little bothered, because he was hoping to at least get to talk to Josh a little more. Of course, he's also bothered because Josh seemed so _scared._ He acted as if someone was waiting for the chance to jump at him every time he so much as blinked, and it broke Tyler's heart. He was curious, wondered _why_ anyone would hurt him, or why anyone would have a reason to.

Things go on for a few weeks. Tyler works every day except Sundays, and ends up pawning his phone for a quick buck after it'd been cut off by, presumably, his parents. He uses part of the money he'd gotten from his old phone to buy a prepaid one from Walmart.

He acquires two pieces of furniture over the course of those two weeks as well. The first had been a couch he'd seen in front of the apartment complex. He'd taken all of the cushions off, and examined it closely, even smelled it, before deeming it fit enough to drag to his own apartment. _One man's trash is another man's treasure._ The second bit of furniture was a dining table that Joe had been kind enough to donate to Tyler. It was sturdy if you put a few sugar packets under one of the legs of it, and that was good enough for him.

At the end of that two weeks, though, Tyler is hit with his first month of _bills._ He'd been using his money sparingly, aside from buying essentials here and there, but two hundred dollars worth of bills was still a pretty devastating blow to his bank account. His rent sat at around a thousand dollars a month, so Tyler was dreading the first time he had to pay for that.

In the middle of his third week in Los Angeles, he's up late at night, on Craigslist, looking at used cars, when someone knocks on his apartment door. He walks over to it, and flicks on the porch light so he can see out of the peephole. He can only see the back of someone's head, and they're wearing a hood, so he sends a quick prayer to God that he isn't about to get murdered as he opens the door.

When the hooded figure turns around, Tyler sees that it's Josh. "Oh."

"I need a place to stay."

"I've got a couch now, so if you want...?"

"I mean permanently."

" _Oh._ Uh. Maybe you should come in so we can talk about that...? I mean, I'm down, because it's fucking expensive to live alone, but, uh, yeah."

Josh steps in, and Tyler notices he's still wearing the clothes he'd given the other boy two and a half weeks previous. Josh takes his shoes off and sets them next to where Tyler's are at before letting the slightly older boy lead him to the couch.

"Why come here?" Tyler asks as he takes a sip from a can of Dr. Pepper.

"Don't know anyone else within walking distance that actually has a home. Look, I'm sorry about just leaving."

"I never said you couldn't. Though, I want that shirt back. It's one of my favorites." Tyler's teasing, but his face sobers up pretty quickly when Josh starts taking it off. "Josh, Josh, I'm kidding. Keep your shirt on. Unless you want to borrow some more clothes, then that's cool too."

Josh looks slightly more defeated than the last time Tyler had seen him, and he feels bad for him. Like, really bad. If he had at least a microwave and a coffee mug, he'd make Josh a cup of hot chocolate, and he'd wrap him up in a blanket like his mother used to do for him when he was a child and she actually cared. "I'll stay out of things and I'll leave during the day if you want, but I _need_ somewhere to sleep, at least. I don't have anywhere to go."

"You don't have to convince me, Josh. As long as you'll get a job or something and help me with rent, and if you don't, like, steal my _shitty fucking Mac_ ," Tyler whacks his laptop, since it'd frozen, then mutters, _"Piece of shit,"_ under his breath, before continuing, "then you're fine. Though, I should probably talk to my landlord..." Tyler shrugs, and sighs in relief when his laptop unfreezes.

Josh fiddles with his fingers a bit, but nods slowly. "Okay."

"When's the last time you showered?"

"Last time I was here," He admits, quietly.

"I bought more towels and better shampoo. You should go take another shower. Get cleaned up, put on some pajamas, and after I get off work for the afternoon tomorrow maybe you could go with me to buy a car...?"

"I don't... have money."

"I mean that I'm buying it. Someone on Craigslist has some old Honda Civic for about five hundred bucks, so I figured I'd just... splurge. I'll be broke after that, but I need a car." Tyler shrugs as returns his attention back to his laptop screen for a few moments.

"Oh. Um. After I shower, can I eat something...? S'been a few days."

"Of course, man. Make yourself at home. Leave the Hostess cupcakes alone, though. Those are for emergencies."

Josh makes a weird face. "Emergencies?"

"Yeah, like, girlfriend breaks up with you and you're a wreck, someone dies, or stuff like that."

"That's... nice. I guess. I'll just—yeah. Shower. Y'know." Josh does finger guns, and Tyler snorts at him.

"Have fun."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda fillery + me trying to get a grasp on joshs character. the next chapter is going to be them clothes shopping and dicking around, then after that tyler talks to his parents to let them know he isnt like. dead or anything.

Josh stays in the shower for at least thirty minutes, trying to memorize the way Tyler's shower head sprays water, and the way the pressure is distributed over his skin. He takes his time washing his hair, and takes his time conditioning it. He scrubs at his body, making sure to get _that_ clean too. Living on the streets for three months, fending for himself, and doing unspeakable things just to keep fed has given him a new appreciation for showers.

He doesn't trust Tyler, and doesn't really even have a reason to trust him anyways. Sure, he's offering Josh with a place to live and an air mattress to sleep on when he, himself, doesn't have many spare resources, and although that's incredibly kind, Josh can't trust him. He can't bring himself to. There's been too many people, primarily men, who have offered him _help_ in exchange for _things._

Josh shakes the bad thoughts out of his head, or tries to, at least, because the water is getting cold, and Tyler's probably going to get onto him or something for wasting water. He pokes his head out of the bathroom, and sees a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt folded up neatly next to the door. Josh picks the articles of clothing up, and takes a moment to put them on.

The shirt is a bit big on him, as are the pants, but Josh also figures the fact that he's underweight has to do with it. He ties the draw strings on the sweatpants as tight as they can go without hurting or being uncomfortable. He towels his hair vigorously before finally stepping out of the bathroom.

Tyler's standing in his kitchen, pouring something from a pot into a few bowls.

“I made ravioli. Nothing gourmet, but it's all I can afford.”

“Uh. That's—that's fine.” Josh honestly never thought he'd ever be so excited to eat Chef Boyardee ravioli. “Not poisoned or anything, is it?” He tries joking. His voice doesn't sound like he's joking, but Tyler snorts nonetheless.

“You're overestimating me, man. If I had the money to buy poison, I'd spend it on a microwave. Christ, I miss microwaves.” Tyler groans and stomps his feet in a childlike way that Josh finds kind of endearing. “I can make do with the stove, but making ravioli is just a touch too convoluted now.”

“I didn't have a microwave growing up. We, uh, didn't have a lot of money.” Josh shrugs, and bows slightly, out of habit, when Tyler hands him one of the bowls.

“It's hot. Be careful.”

Josh follows him into his living room, and sits down, cross legged, against a wall. Tyler sits in the corner of his couch, and curses after trying to take a bite of the ravioli too soon. “So, uh… Is your family rich? Noticed the sweatpants were Nike. Not cheap.”

“Upper middle class. My mom's a nurse and my dad's a professor at Ohio State.”

Josh nods. “My parents live in Glendale. Mom works at a Target, and Dad's an accountant. Spends his money on booze, though, so we never like… had anything nice.”

“That sucks, Josh. I'm sorry.” Tyler gives him a sympathetic look, and Josh looks back down into his lap with a shrug.

“S'fine. Life sucks sometimes.”

“Yeah, it does. Hey, uh, we're gonna have to share the air mattress again tonight, but depending on what I get in tips tomorrow morning, you should come with me to Walmart to get another air mattress and a few more pillows. Also, a blanket. Blankets are cool.”

“Oh, gee, Tyler, you don't gotta—”

“I know I don't, but I want to, alright?”

Josh bites on the inside of his bottom lip, nodding. They sit in silence as they both work on eating. Tyler finishes first, but Josh takes his time. He savors it. It's been two and a half weeks since he's had something warm and something that he was one hundred percent sure wasn't expired. He realizes he's staring at the bowl, and that he's tearing up when Tyler's next to him, and tapping him on the shoulder, asking, “Hey, are you alright, man? You've been staring at that for a few minutes.”

Josh nods weakly and wipes his eyes off quickly. “I'm fine. I'm—yeah, I'm good right now. I'm good.”

Josh doesn't see it, but Tyler smiles a little sadly before he goes to sit on the couch while he waits patiently for Josh to finish his ravioli.

 

* * *

 

Josh manages to sleep through Tyler getting up, showering, getting dressed, and leaving, only waking up when Tyler trips as he walks back into the apartment. He goes down with a quick yelp of, _“Fuck!”_ which makes Josh shoot up with wide eyes, fists ready to fly in case he needs to defend himself.

He sighs in relief after seeing that it's just Tyler. “You okay?”

Tyler sticks an arm in the air with a thumb up. “Yeah, man. I'm gonna just… shower. I got a few hundred bucks from tips today, by the way,” Tyler says with a grunt as he peels himself from the ground to head towards his bathroom.

Josh nods, even though the other boy doesn't see. He raises his voice a bit before Tyler closes the bathroom door to ask, “Can I make myself something to eat?”

“You don't gotta ask, Bro. Just don't eat _everything_.”

Josh nods, again, even though, similar to the last time he nodded, Tyler couldn't see. He stumbles over to the tiny kitchen, and as quietly as he possibly can, he looks through the cabinets, until he finds the one containing all of the food Tyler had at his disposal. He looks through the canned food, rummaging until he sees a can of pineapple chunks.

Josh has a soft spot for canned pineapple, and prays that Tyler doesn't mind when he grabs a can opener and a plastic fork. Though, Tyler did say that he didn't even need to ask. Josh walks back to the living room, and sets the opened can with the fork inside of it on the floor next to the couch, before going over to the air mattress to peel the fleece blanket from it so he can wrap himself in it, on the couch, while he eats the canned pineapple.

Josh winces silently as Tyler walks out of the bathroom with only a towel around his hips. Sure, Tyler's attractive, like, really attractive, but Josh's eyes are glued to the lower part of his stomach, along with his hips. Tyler gives him a weird look once he notices the staring, before looking down, and saying, “Oh. Shit. _Well._ ”

“I won't—um—it's not my place to ask, man. Don't worry about it.” Josh shifts his gaze to the closed blinds over the window in the living room as Tyler goes to grab a different shirt and a pair of pants.

“Uh. Thanks, Josh.” Before he stepping back into the hall Tyler starts talking again. “I, uh, managed to get a few good tips today, like more than I expected, so depending on however much an air mattress, a few pillows, and a blanket costs, d'ya wanna hit up a few second hand stores? I mean, I assume we're gonna be sharing clothes, so we're gonna need way more than I already got.”

Josh gives him an incredulous look. “Uh—we don't—we don't have to share. They're your clothes, not mine.”

Tyler shrugs. “We both need clothes, and for the time being, we're about the same size, so we might as well, man.”

 

* * *

 

“Do we really have to take a bus?” Josh is looking around himself, warily, trying to see if there's any other way to get to Tyler's little Craiglist date.

“Well, I can't exactly walk ten miles for a car. Listen, we'll only be on the bus for half an hour at most. You can hold my hand or something if it freaks you out.”

“I'm not holding your hand.”

“Are you one of those guys that are all 'no homo' all the time?” Tyler gives him a 'please tell me you aren't' kind of look.

“I'm gay, but I don't need to hold your hand on a bus.”

“Oh. Huh.” Tyler clicks his tongue for a second, and sighs in relief when he sees the bus heading towards their stop.

“Are you…?”

“What? Gay?”

“Yeah,” Josh replies as he follows Tyler onto the bus. Surprisingly, given the time of day, the bus is mostly empty.

“Haven't really thought about it before. Technically I have a girlfriend, but I haven't talked to her since I left. I don't think I really ever liked her anyways.” With a shrug, Tyler plops down in a seat.

Josh sits down next to him, almost politely. “Oh. So, you're straight, or…?”

“I said I haven't thought about it before. Never really liked labels to begin with anyways.”

“Sorry.”

“Ah, jeez, don't apologize. I wasn't trying to be snippy with you.” Tyler sighs and scrubs his face with his hands. “I've had a long day already, man.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. I have to go back to work around eight. I told you I perform, right?”

Josh shakes his head softly. “You didn't. You're talking music, right?”

“Of course.”

“You any good?”

“I suppose. If you don't got any big plans, you should come watch my set.” Tyler wiggles his eyebrows at Josh, trying to hold back a dumb little grin.

Josh bites his lip, trying to hold back his own smile, as he runs a hand through his hair. “I'd like that. So, uh, just—trying to make conversation, but can I ask how your day has already been long…?”

“The place I work at is this like… It's a combo of a bar and a diner, but, get this—a _gay_ bar. Most of the patrons are gay, and I'm apparently a twink, or so I've been told, so I dress like a slut and flirt with gross old men just so they give me good tips. Sounds bad, I guess.”

“Gotta do what you gotta do. I'm definitely not in a place to judge.”

“How so?” Tyler turns his head to give him a weird look.

“I've… _done things_ for a few bucks here and there before. I'm not necessarily proud of it, but I have to eat, I guess.”

“What kind of _things?_ ”

“Tyler, you know what I mean.” Josh purses his lips and adjusts his position a bit.

“Shit, I'm sorry, Josh.” Tyler leans over to hug his new roommate tight. “I wasn't trying to pry.”

Josh awkwardly pats Tyler's back, and politely detaches the older boy from him. “It's fine. I don't really like talking about that kind of stuff.”

 

* * *

 

“This car is even better than my old car, holy shit,” Tyler's giggling, and smiling widely, as he speeds down an empty street. “Seats are way more comfortable too.”

“It's nice,” Josh supposes, trying to smile with Tyler. “Where we going?”

“Like I said, Walmart. After that, we are hitting up a few secondhand stores.”

“Right, right. I forgot.”

 

* * *

 

Tyler stops in the middle of an aisle, startling Josh. “You know what?'

“Uh. What?” Josh furrows his brows at Tyler.

“I wish we had enough pillows and blankets to build a fort. That would be totally sweet.”

Josh huffs. “You don't got enough chairs or paperclips to do that.”

“Give me a month or two and I will totally get the shit to build a glorious blanket fort.”

“Make it a few weeks. I'll get a job and help with that plan.”

“ _Sweet.”_ Tyler goes to fist bump Josh, but Josh grabs his fist after making the mistake of thinking he was going in for a high five, and they break down into a fit of giggles.


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay, I have twenty dollars leftover. What do you need most?” Tyler scans Josh's face, waiting for an answer from the younger boy.

“Shoes, I think.”

“Alright.” Tyler leads Josh into the secondhand store. “Pick whatever you want, within reason.”

Josh nods, and doesn't let go of Tyler's hand as they head towards the two double sided racks containing both men and women's shoes.

When Josh instantly gravitates towards a pair of Doc Marten's, Tyler makes a remark. “You an artsy type? Usually only see hipsters going for Docs.”

Josh removes his hand from Tyler's grasp as he checks the shoe size. “They're my size. Fuck yeah. And listen, I'm just a drummer. Gotta look cool somehow.”

Tyler stalks around Josh to force the younger boy to face him. _“Drummer?_ How good are you?”

The boy flinches, and Tyler mumbles out an apology, but continues staring at him. “I'm alright.”

“Be my drummer.”

“What? Your _drummer?”_

“I need a drummer. I can't figure out any beats for my songs because I'm not a drummer. I only know how to sing and how to play piano and acoustic guitar.”

“I don't… really have a drum kit?”

“We'll work on that. I have Garageband anyways.”

“I haven't really even used a computer before…?”

Tyler waves his hand dismissively, not even seeming to think twice about it. “I'll teach you. S'not too hard. Anyways, are those the shoes you want?”

Josh holds up a finger before sitting on the floor to try them on. They fit perfectly, so he nods, and lets Tyler help him stand up. “What's your shoe size?”

“Eight in men's, nine in women's.”

“Why do you know your shoe size in women's?” Josh can't help but to laugh a little bit as he puts his own shoe back on, and as he tosses his new pair of boots into the basket Tyler's carrying.

“Women have some cool shoes, dude. How about you?”

“Nine in men's.”

“We can share shoes then. Totally not sanitary, but we're living on a budget, my dude.” Tyler throws an arm over Josh's shoulder as the two of them head over to the men's clothes. “Since we're sharing, we need to be in agreement over everything.”

“Gotcha. I, uh, I like your fashion sense, so I think… we should be okay.”

“What kind of clothes do you like to wear?” Tyler asks nonchalantly as he flips through a t-shirt rack.

Josh shrugs. “Whatever fits. Never had too much of a choice growing up. Most just wore t-shrits and jeans.”

Tyler nods. “Yeah. My parents pretty much had a coronary when I started wearing _girly_ things.”

“Girly things?” Josh peeks above the rack of jeans that he's looking through.

“Floral stuff, pink stuff, purple stuff, etcetera. They despised me wearing anything traditionally feminine. Also, here,” Tyler tosses a t-shirt with patterned sleeves over the rack at him. “I want you to try that on. It looks cool.”

“Right now?”

“Uh, no. That shirt's only a buck. We still got ten to spend.”

Josh nods slowly. He takes a pair of black jeans that look kind of like the ones Tyler's wearing from the rack, and holds them up. “How about these?”

“They look good. How much?”

“Two dollars.”

“Leaves us with eight. Alright.” Tyler starts heading away from the men's clothes, and Josh tails him, trying not to be too confused.

“Where we going?”

“Women's. Gonna see if they got anything cute, or at least something that shows off my _twink_ bits.”

“Twink bits?'

“My ass. Maybe a tight shirt to show off what little muscle tone I have.” Tyler shrugs. “You don't gotta share that stuff with me, but looking hot is primarily the reason I've been getting good tips. Hell, my ass is what's paying for these clothes.” He chuckles slightly.

“Like I said earlier—I'm not judging.” Josh watches from behind Tyler as he leafs through another rack, up until a shoulder-less shirt catches his eye. “Tyler. That shirt.”

Tyler takes it from the rack. “This one?”

Josh nods. “Yes. I dunno if that'd help you at work, but it looks cool.”

“Probably wouldn't, but you're right. I'm buying it anyways.” Tyler looks through their basket before speaking again. “Okay, so, two shirts, a pair of pants, and boots for you. We got enough money left for one or two more things.”

“Buy what you want. I just needed shoes, honestly.”

“How do you feel about leggings?” Tyler asks, totally conspicuously.

“Haven't ever worn them.”

Tyler gasps. “Oh, man, we're buying some leggings here. You can choose whatever pattern or color you want, but you, Joshua, uh… What's your last name?”

“Dun.”

“Joseph. Alright, well, that's good to know. Anyways, Joshua Dun, you need some leggings in your life. I only brought a few pairs with me when I left home.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What songs should I cover tonight?” It's now around five, and Tyler's looking through his mentions on Twitter, but not having any luck.

“What kind of songs do you like…?”

He shrugs. “I've covered Elvis, and I've covered Lana Del Rey. I'm not picky. What's your favorite song?”

Josh racks his brain, trying to thing of the minimal music he's listened to, before coming up with, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World. Either that, or, uh, Your Love.”

“Classic rock, huh?” Tyler quirks a brow at Josh.

“I—I guess. S'just stuff I remember listening to when I was a kid.”

“I love both of those songs, man.”

“Are you going to perform any of your stuff?”

“Well, yeah. Usually I perform two covers and something of my own to wrap everything up with. I was thinking about...” Tyler trails off as he feels around himself, until he finds the lump under the fleece blanket that's his phone. “Josh, c'mere.”

Josh crawls across the living room to sit next to Tyler on the floor. He gets handed an ear bud, and Josh gives it a weird look before sticking it into his ear.

“Give me feedback. I'm debating between this one and another one.”

Tyler shifts anxiously as he watches Josh while the younger listens to the song he'd started playing. Josh's expression is blank for the most part. He takes an ear bud out a few minutes later, and when he goes to say something, Tyler cuts him off. “That was Drown. Listen to the next one before saying anything.”

Josh gives him a thumbs up. Once he's done with the second song, he takes both of the ear buds out. “Which one?”

“I liked both of them. A lot. You—your voice. It's pretty. Um… I think the first one would be better to listen to live, though. If—if you get what I mean, I guess. Like, they're both amazing, trust me, but… yeah.” Josh takes a deep breath and looks away from Tyler in a fashion that resembles a guilty dog.

“Hey, man, I'm not offended. That's why I asked.”

 

* * *

 

 

Josh is dressed in the nicest clothes of Tyler's that he could find, plus the boots he'd gotten earlier that day, as he sits right in front of the raised bit of floor meant to be a stage, watching Tyler set a few things up, The older boy offers him a few shy smiles once in a while, and Josh just keeps his arms crossed, a squinting, calculative look permanently glued to his face.

Eventually, Tyler sits in front of the keyboard, and adjusts the microphone, before speaking in a tone that comes off as timid. It's one that Josh hasn't heard from him before. He's only seen Tyler be energetic and seemingly confident; it was surprising to see the boy look nervous. “Okay, uh, first up is a cover of Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”

Someone a few tables behind Josh shouts, “Lorde or Tears for Fears version?” in a tone conveying condescension.

Tyler scoffs. “Tears for Fears. Who do you think I am?” A few people laugh, and Josh would be lying if he said he didn't at least smile a little bit.

Tyler fiddles around for a few moments before the bartender shouts, “Hit it, white boy!” from his place behind the bar, causing even more people to laugh.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Gabe. I'm getting to it.” And then he starts playing the piano. Josh watches in slight admiration at how Tyler's fingers move effortlessly across the keys, and his admiration turns to just plain _awe_ when Tyler starts singing.

Josh has always loved Everybody Wants to Rule the World, but Tyler's voice is definitely turning it into his all time favorite rather than his go-to whenever he has the means to listen to his choice of music. A few people come up and slip a few one, five, ten, and twenty dollar bills into the jar, and Josh's eyes just about pop out of his head. By the time Tyler's half way through Your Love, there's at least sixty bucks in the jar. Once he's done with his short, three song set, people are clapping, and he has another forty bucks in the jar.

The next twenty minutes are a bit weird. Well, not really, but Josh is a little out of his element. Tyler pockets all of the money from the jar, goes into a back room to do _something_ that Josh isn't sure of _,_ then comes back out and leads Josh from the diner by the hand. They'd decided to walk since it wasn't that cold, and since Tyler was trying to prolong the usage he got out of the gas that was in the tank to be as long as possible.

They're about ten minutes away when Tyler lets out a ridiculous noise, saying, “I fucking _hate_ performing.”

“You made like, a hundred bucks, Tyler.”

“Well, _yeah_ , I know that.” Tyler rolls his eyes and lets go of Josh's hands so he can run both of his own through his hair. “It's just weird, like, showing myself to that many people, even though there weren't _that_ many in there, you know? I'm also not really that great at singing either, so it's just scary.”

Josh scoffs. “ _Not great_? You're fucking amazing. You have real talent, dude, and your lyrics are _brilliant,_ so shut up.”

Tyler shrugs bashfully, and hides a small smile by rubbing his nose with his hand. “I guess.”


	7. Chapter 7

Tyler's walking home around ten during his fourth week in Los Angeles when his phone rings. He makes the mistake of not checking the number when he answers it, saying a simple and polite, “Hello?”

“ _Tyler Robert Joseph.”_ He has to hold his phone away from his ear as his mother yells his name. His _mother._ “ _Where the_ fuck _are you?_ ”

Tyler doesn't say anything right away. He doesn't want her to know where he is. She could probably find out easily if she looked at his old bank account, but he's still wary. “Walking home from work.” His voice is quiet, defeated almost.

“ _Work?!”_

“Yeah.” He keeps his phone four inches from his ear as he keeps walking, pace growing slower and slower by the second. Once he comes to a complete stop, he's sitting against the fence that he'd found Josh sitting by a month ago. “How'd you get my phone number?”

“ _It's not important. Where_ are _you?”_

“Sitting on a sidewalk.”

“ _Tyler—”_

“Listen, I'm not telling you where I'm at. I left because I couldn't take you and dad badgering me about college, getting a job, marrying someone, having kids, and living some bullshit, mediocre, _bourgeoisie_ life. I'm _happier_ now.”

She's silent for a few moments, and then there's muffled voices, and shuffling in the background, before his father is speaking. _“Your mother is in a different room. You're nineteen, and you're allowed to live on your own. I just want to know if you're safe, and if you have somewhere to stay.”_

“I'm safe, and I have an apartment.”

“ _Are you in Ohio?”_

“No. I'm in California. Check the area code on my phone number next time.”

“ _You should come home, Tyler. I'm sure we could work something out. You can't just… not go to college.”_

“I thought you said I was allowed to live on my own. I can make my own choices. I don't _have_ to listen to you or Mom anymore.”

“ _What about Jenna?”_

“ _Fuck_ Jenna.” Tyler wants to groan at the thought of his pretty, doe eyed, blonde haired girlfriend whose face he honestly never wants to see again. “I don't _love_ her. I never have and I never _will._ If you call me again, I'm going to file a fucking restraining order.” Tyler hangs up on his dad after that, and blocks both of his parents' numbers before stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

He sits with his legs crossed, and his elbows balanced on each of his knees, head in his hands, as he works on breathing exercises that the guidance counselor at his high school had taught him. Tyler throws a pebble into the street as hard as he can, and bites his thumb, trying not to let out a frustrated scream.

His face is hot, and Tyler isn't sure about what he's feeling. Is he mad? Sad? Upset? Who knows, but either way, his cheeks end up sticky from tears, and his eyes are burning when a pretty lady bends down, and takes his chin in her hand to look him in the eyes as she asks, “Are you alright?”

Tyler shrugs. “I'm just _pissed off_ at my parents.”

The lady smiles softly, and Tyler watches as her luscious lips covered in blue lipstick move while she says, “How far do you live from here? I'll walk you home.”

Tyler takes the suspiciously large hand held out to him as she helps him up. “About ten minutes. You don't have to, ma'am.”

She just waves a hand dismissively at Tyler. “Nonsense. It's not safe for a young guy like yourself to be wandering around LA this late.”

“I've lived here for a month,” Tyler mumbles as he walks with her. “I got a car but gas is kind of expensive, so I like to walk when I can't.”

“Still.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a joint. “Want a toke?”

Against his better judgment, Tyler shrugs, and motions for her to pass him the joint. “S'been a while since I've had any of this stuff. My brother's a stoner. Parents would kill him if they found out.”

She giggles when Tyler coughs. “I can tell that it's been a while. Talk to me about your parents. Vent your frustrations.”

“I'm sure talking about my life problems to a complete stranger couldn't be a bad choice,” Tyler remarks, dryly. “But, as of late, I've made tons of mistakes. They smothered me, and pressured me into too much shit. Mom's also kind of an abusive cunt. I'd just gotten off the phone with them when you saw me. Got yelled at.”

She winces. “Sounds rough, pal.”

“I ran away a little over a month ago.”

“Where'd you live?'

“Ohio. Dunno why I thought LA was a good idea, but it's working out so far.” Tyler makes a motion, asking for her to pass the joint, and she gladly offers it to him. He doesn't cough this time, but his eyes sting just a tiny bit as he's handing it back. “I almost tried killing myself. Like I literally had a bottle of pills in my hand, but I snapped and just left. S'why I'm here.”

The lady wraps an arm around Tyler's shoulder, and tugs him in close. Tyler finds it suspicious that her body feels more _hard_ rather than _soft_ but he doesn't question it. “Hey, listen. How old are you?”

“Turned nineteen a few months ago.”

“Alright, well, I'm twenty eight, and I just want you to know that you'll get past this, and you'll fix your relationship with your parents. Not sure about your mom, since she sounds pretty horrible, but you've still got some time to figure shit out.”

“Are you parents pretty bad too?” Tyler asks, craning his neck to look up at the lady. She's a bit taller than him, which… is something, given Tyler's already a little lanky.

“They used to be. When I came out, they were all bothered, and kicked me out, what with being devout Mormons and all. Packed my shit and moved to New York for a while, then moved to Los Angeles to be with my boyfriend at the time.”

“Wait—wait—you're a _girl…?_ If you came out, why did you have a boyfriend?”

The lady laughs, and in a voice that's so deep that it gives Tyler whiplash, she responds with, “Honey, please. I'm a _drag queen.”_

“ _Oh. Oh my god.”_ Tyler starts laughing. “Shit, I thought you were just some cool, blue lady. What pronouns do I use?”

“Well, you can call me Karen from Finance and use she and her pronouns, but when I don't have my tits and a full face on, you can call me Dallon and use he and him pronouns.”

“Shit, alright, man. I haven't ever met a drag queen before. Also, hey, my apartment complex is over there.” Tyler points to the other side of the street, and Karen from Finance laughs a bit.

“Really? Shit, I live there too.” She and Tyler run across the street, thankfully making it past without getting hit by any cars. “Which apartment do you live in?”

“1G.”

“You're kidding me? I live above you.”

“No way! That's awesome!” Tyler's smiling, and the two of them execute a hug before she goes up to her own apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

Josh gets nudged awake at some ungodly hour of the night. Tyler doesn't own any clocks, and Josh doesn't have a phone, so he isn't sure what time it is, but he figures it's past midnight, since Tyler had apparently worked a few hours after his nightly _performance._ “Josh.”

He groans softly, and pokes his head from above the blanket. Tyler's standing above him in an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. He doesn't say anything, so Josh forces himself to say, “What?”

“Can I share your bed with you?”

Josh sits up a little bit now, and rubs at one of his eyes. “Why?”

“Had a bad night and I wanna sleep next to someone. You're the only person within two minutes of me.”

“There's not a lot of room, Ty,” Josh says, groggily, as he scoots over and pulls the blanket back anyways. He's lived with Tyler for a week and a half now, and he's learned rather quickly that the nineteen year old is affectionate as all get out. The older proves Josh's point by tucking himself into Josh's side, one leg thrown over one of Josh's, an arm across the younger boy's chest, and, last but not least, his head resting peacefully on Josh's right pectoral, or at least what he has of a pectoral.

Josh is too tired to be all stiff and awkward, so he just rubs Tyler's back, and lets himself drift back to sleep while the older boy mumbles out his complaints about his day, his parents, and everything else that'd been bugging him.

 

* * *

 

Tyler slips out on Sunday morning for about forty minutes to buy coffee and a box of donuts. He wakes Josh up, again, once he's back, and although Josh is a little peeved that Tyler had woken him up, all is forgiven once he sets his eyes upon the box of donuts gracing their newly found and used coffee table. “Are those real?”

“Yes, Josh, the donuts are real. Also, coffee.” Tyler slides one of the cups towards Josh, and the younger boy almost cries in glee.

Josh takes a swig of the coffee, and can't help the smile on his face. “Oh, man, it's been so long since I've had coffee. God, I've missed this.”

“I've been debating on buying a coffee maker with whatever I have leftover after rent and bills next month. I miss it too, man.”

“If you don't buy one, I will,” he mutters as he takes another swig of the coffee. “I got a job.”

Tyler claps, and smiles. “Awesome! Where at?”

“At the record store next to where you work.” Josh is a little sheepish as he responds, but Tyler just smiles.

“That's so cool, dude. We practically work together. When do you start? I'll totally bring you coffee and food.”

“Tomorrow morning around nine. I was wondering if you could give me a ride…? At least in the morning. I can walk home in the evening.” Josh looks at him hopefully, as if Tyler would say 'no' in the first place.

“Yeah, of course. I work around eight so I don't see why not. What days do you work?”

“Weekdays. I'm off on weekends. It's minimum wage, but it's something.”

“It's everything, Josh. Now you can help me with rent.” Tyler throws him a playful little smirk, and Josh rolls his eyes just a tiny bit.

“You don't even have to pay your rent for another three weeks. Are we just splitting it fifty-fifty?”

Tyler nods. “If you can afford it, yeah. Can I have help on bills too? I mean, they weren't that expensive last month, but you never know.”

Josh nods. “As long as I can continue living here, I'll do whatever you need. Within reason.”

“I met a drag queen last night,” Tyler changes the subject, suddenly, as he hands Josh a donut. “She was so pretty, and I didn't even know she was a drag queen until she told me. Her wig was all blue, and so was her make up and her dress and heels and _everything._ I wish I had a picture of her to show you. She lives in the apartment above us, too.”

“Huh. That's cool.” Josh slips back into his usual habit of not saying a whole lot while Tyler continues talking about the drag queen.

“I was thinking about asking her out to coffee. Or him. I dunno, I don't think she'd be in drag if we went out to coffee. Anyways, she was so nice too. Like I was having a little meltdown on the sidewalk because of my parents, and she literally walked me home. How _nice_ is that?”

Josh nods. “Very nice.”

“Exactly.” Tyler stuffs half of a maple log in his mouth, and Josh has to hold himself back from making a joke about deep throating. _It's been a week. I don't need to freak him out already._ “Mmf—anywayf, her drag name ith Karen fr'm Finanfe.”

“Karen from Finance?” Josh giggles at that. “That's pretty rad, honestly.”

Tyler nods rapidly as he swallows. “I laughed. It's brilliant. She said that when she doesn't have tits and a face on, though, that I could call her Dallon. Like, that's _such_ a geeky white guy name.”

“You're white.”

“That's where you're wrong, Joshua. I'm _half_ white. I got some pure _Lebanon_ in my veins.” Tyler flexes what little muscle he has, causing Josh to giggle again.

“And I've got one fourth of Japan running through my veins. Chill.”

“You're part Japanese?” Josh has to admire how fascinated Tyler is by everything, no matter how small or trivial. “Do you know any Japanese?”

Josh shrugs. “I know a few greetings and how to introduce myself. That's it, though.”

“That's still so cool, dude. I wish I knew another language. It would be so cool.” Tyler sighs wistfully and starts working on eating another donut.

“What are you gonna do today? Like, after coffee and donuts,” Josh asks politely.

“Hm… I don't know.” Tyler's face suddenly looks a little sad; he's lost his facade of happiness. “After last night with my parents, I was kinda wanting to spend today moping and watching sad movies on Netflix or something.”

“Netflix?”

“Please tell me you know what Netflix is,” Tyler says this as he gets up to go grab his laptop.

“I know what it is, man, I've just never used it before.”

“Oh, yeah. Makes sense I guess. I use one of my friends' accounts. I haven't told him where I'm at, or really even spoken to him, but he hasn't questioned that I still use his Netflix account.” Tyler shrugs as he sets his laptop down on the coffee table. He sits on the floor in front of it, and pats the spot next to him, motioning for Josh to come on over.

Josh is a little hesitant as he scoots all the way around the coffee table, and he lightly hits Tyler in the arm when he calls the younger boy goofy. “Wait, Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“You're up for a watching a movie, like, right now, right?”

Josh shrugs. “I don't have anything else to do until tomorrow, so I don't see why not. Also, uh… how do you have internet?”

“Someone near the apartment has unprotected WiFi. I think it's a felony to use WiFi without permission but I don't really give a shit.”

“Eh, it's whatever.” Josh shrugs. “What movie did you want to watch?”

“I was thinking about watching The Breakfast Club for the millionth time. I dunno why, but it's one of my favorites.”

“I haven't seen it before. Like I said, we didn't have a lot of money, and dad was always watching football anyways.”

“Oh.” Tyler shrugs and Josh watches him type furiously as he pulls up the movie. Tyler gets up for a few seconds before pressing play so he can grab a blanket. Josh is expecting Tyler to just wrap it around himself, but he's surprised when the blanket gets wrapped around both of them, while Tyler subconsciously leans on Josh.

Tyler almost falls asleep a few times during the movie, and Josh forces himself to relax. A stiff person isn't fun to lay on. Josh knows from experience. Tyler doesn't seem to mind though. “Josh?”

“Yeah, man?”

“Can we be best friends?” Tyler looks up at him, and Josh realizes that he's actually kind of adorable.

“What do best friends do? I haven't had one before.”

Tyler sits up now, and stares at Josh incredulously. “You haven't had a best friend?”

“Tyler, I don't know if you realized this, but I'm poor. I never had anything cool in school, and no one likes talking to the poor kid. I was bullied, too.” Josh shifts a little awkwardly, and avoids eye contact.

“Oh, man, I'm going to be the best best friend you've never had. If we can be best friends, that is.”

“Depends. What does the 'best friend' status entail?”

“Well, for me, it means I will totally buy you gifts for no reason, and it means that we will totally sneak off in the middle of the night for Taco Bell and shit like that. We can, like, listen to music and stuff in the car, and have some deep conversations, and in general just be buddies.”

Josh can't bring himself to say no to Tyler's excited eyes, and his cute little grin with all of his adorably crooked teeth. “I'll probably be a lousy best friend, but that sounds cool.”

“Nonsense, man. You'll be an awesome best friend. I'll teach you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Tyler is checking his mail when a familiar figure stands next to him to check his own mail. Tyler looks at him for a few minutes before realization dawns on him. “Hey, are you Dallon?”

The guy, Dallon, nods and Tyler grins.

“Dude, you look so different. This is kinda freaky.”

Dallon smirks and nods. “Yeah, I get that whenever anyone sees me out of drag.”

“So, uh, I was chatting with my roommate, and he was kind of giving me a pep talk because I wanted to know if you might want to go out for coffee or dinner sometime…?” Tyler's raising his eyebrows a little bit, and clutching his mail just a tad too tight, waiting for either a rejection or for him to accept the offer.

Dallon seems to think for a minute, before shrugging with the eloquent response of, “Eh, what the hell? I haven't gone out on a date for a while.”

“Oh, a date?” Tyler giggles nervously. “I didn't know that's what you wanted.”

Dallon squints. “You're not straight, right?”

Tyler shrugs. “Dunno yet. Depends on if you show me a good time.”

Dallon tips his head back and laughs. “Alright, kid, we'll see. How about Saturday? You got anything going?”

“I have work, but I'll ask my boss if I can take the night off.”

“I'll knock when I'm ready, then.”

“Alright then, man. It's a date.” Tyler gets a pat on the back before Dallon walks off and back to his apartment.

 

* * *

 

When Josh gets home around five, Tyler is immediately in front of him, and shaking him a little bit while jumping up and down. “Josh, dude, guess what?”

Josh puts his hands on Tyler's shoulders, and holds him in place so he can ask, “What is it, dude?”

“I've got a date with the drag queen I told you about. I asked about going out for coffee or dinner sometime, and he said that he was up for a date, and like, I want to experiment with dudes anyways, so we flirted a bit and listen—I got a _date.”_

Josh grins and pecks Tyler on the forehead. “That's awesome, dude. I'm happy for you. Can I meet him, though? Gotta make sure he's gonna treat my _best friend_ right.”

Tyler laughs a bit and hugs Josh. “Of course you can, dude. I want to make sure he has my best friend's approval before I do anything.”

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday morning, Tyler knocks on the door frame to Andy's office before poking his head in. The man looks up from his paperwork. “Hey, Andy? Can I have Saturday night off?”

“Why?”

Tyler scratches the back of his head awkwardly, before saying, “I kind of have a date with someone. We were gonna meet up around eight, and he was going to drive me to a restaurant so we could, y'know, have a date.”

“You don't need to justify yourself, Tyler. You wanna take a sick day or a personal day?” _Eyebrow raise._

“Personal day. I'm saving my sick days for until I get my yearly cold.”

Andy nods. “Alright. Now scram; you have tables to bus.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

 

* * *

 

Josh sighs to himself as he watches Tyler pace around the apartment while he waits for Dallon to come retrieve him. “Tyler, he's just a person, and you're like, really awesome.”

“Yeah, but he's hot, dude. Are you sure I look good?” Josh had let Tyler borrow his boots, since they went with the black skinny jeans and the short sleeved black button up shirt he was wearing.

“Tyler, if I had the chance, I'd sleep with you myself. You look _fine.”_

Tyler blushes and shushes Josh. “Thanks for the vote of confi—” And then he's being cut off by his doorbell. “Oh, _fuck.”_

Josh rolls his eyes, and gets up to answer the door himself. A guy that Josh assumes is Dallon, who is about as tall as the door frame, is standing there in his own button up and sensible jeans. Josh has to agree with Tyler—he _is_ hot.

 

* * *

 

Josh watches a TV show on Tyler's laptop, and he chats with Tyler through iMessage throughout the older boy's date. It, apparently, goes absolutely wonderfully, and not more than two hours later, Josh gets an earful of _moaning_ and _oh god, please, faster, fuck fuck fuck,_ which causes him to grab Tyler's spare pair of earbuds to drown out the noises.

Josh is… sex repulsed, for obvious reasons having to do with his previous hobby of whoring himself out for a quick buck here and there. Josh hates that he had to do that, he does, but he didn't have too much of a choice. He didn't know what else to do. Point is, though, hearing Tyler and their upstairs neighbor going at it at ten at night was digging up some unpleasant memories for him.

By the Tyler is back, limping and looking sated, Josh is wrapped up in both of their blankets, on the air mattress he'd claimed for himself, curled up, and trying not to cry into his pillow. Tyler notices immediately, and after his jacket is off, he crawls onto the small air mattress next to Josh, asking, “Hey, dude, what's wrong?” in a quiet little voice.

Josh shakes his head, and rolls away from Tyler, who manages to grab onto his arm and catch him before he falls off of the bed. Tyler tugs Josh close to his chest, and shushes him. “Josh, man, what's wrong? Please tell me. I wanna help,” comes his almost plea, as he glues himself to Josh's back.

Josh shakes his head again. “Bad stuff. Bad, bad stuff.”

Tyler runs a hand through Josh's hair that's a bit greasy. “Was it my fault?”

Josh shrugs. “Kind of. Mostly mine, though.” He's sounding all sorts of defeated, and Tyler is feeling pretty frickin' terrible.

“Tell me.”

“Remember how I told you I had to sleep with people to… to get by?”

“Oh, god, Josh—” Tyler starts, but he gets cut off.

“Don't—it's—it's not your fault that I couldn't handle _hearing_ that stuff.”

“Josh, man, I shouldn't have slept with him on the first date. I should've at least been quieter. I just—I haven't done anything with a guy before, alright? It was all new and good.”

Josh shakes his head. “It's fine. It just—it dug up some shit. A lot of shit. Shit that I've been aching to put behind me, but I _can't,_ because—cause every freaking time I close my eyes, all of that shit is _there,_ and I can't _escape.”_

Tyler hugs Josh as tight as he can without hurting him. “Babe, listen, you're alright now. You're safe. You've got a job and a kind of warm bed to sleep in, alright? I'm at least not going to let anything or anyone hurt you.”

Josh cries even more, and Tyler just continues to console him as best as possible.

 

* * *

 

A tradition on Sundays that's been taking place is Tyler slipping out in the mornings while Josh sleeps to get Starbucks and a box of day old donuts from Walmart that's marked down a few bucks. He wakes Josh up as gently as possible, saying, “I got donuts and caffeine, man,” and Josh usually gets up almost immediately.

This Sunday, though, Tyler splurged and spent a few extra bucks on a larger coffee. Hell, it isn't even Josh's usual black coffee. Tyler decided to treat him to a caramel macchiato. Josh smiles a little softly at him, and wipes one of his eyes free of eye boogers. “You didn't have to do this.”

Tyler shrugs. “Part of being a good best friend is buying your best friend comfort food after he has a panic attack because you fucked your neighbor really loudly.”

Josh giggles a little bitterly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“It's no problem, my dude.”

 

* * *

 

Two Fridays following the 'Tyler and Dallon fucked and caused Josh to have a PTSD panic attack' incident, Tyler invites the two of them to the diner to watch a rather popular band perform. (Josh and Tyler figured joking about the incident would help relieve some of the awkward stress, and it did, honestly. It really did.) The diner is packed, and Tyler has to work busing tables before he performs that night after the big band does.

Tyler forgot the name of the band, but he's pretty sure it starts with Panic, and he's half tempted to try hitting on the vocalist, who is, like, really hot in Tyler's opinion. He's sweaty, all sexy and shit, and he's totally charismatic; good at getting the crowd all riled up.

Later in the night, after Tyler's done with his own performance, he peeks into the backroom of the diner to try and chat up the vocalist of the band. Dallon and Josh both tag along with him, and Tyler gives them instructions to let him do the talking. The vocalist, Brendon, Tyler learns, is sitting on one of the couches hands pressed to his eyes, doing breathing exercises.

Tyler politely gets his attention by saying, “Uh, sir?”

Brendon's head shoots up, and he gags. “Dude, I'm like seventeen. Don't call me sir.”

Tyler's eyes widen. _“Seventeen?!_ Fuck—you look like you're in your twenties.”

Brendon chuckles. “I guess. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to say that you guys are just—y'all are fucking amazing. Like, that was so impressing dude.”

Brendon takes a minute to check all of them out. He looks Tyler up and down first, then Josh, and he definitely takes his time checking Dallon out. “Thanks. You were pretty great yourself, dude. I really like that second song—what was it?”

“Trapdoor.”

“It was awesome, man. Really awesome.”

Tyler smiles, and nods. “Thank you so much, dude.”

Brendon stands up, and looks Tyler in the eye as he says, “Give me your phone number. I want to make a proposition, but not tonight.”

“Is it sexual?”

Brendon snorts. “Lord, no. I'm about to give my number to your tall friend over here, bu I want yours because I'm interested in asking you to accompany _my_ band on a tour across the west coast, along with parts of Idaho, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico.”

Tyler coughs as a reflex. “Seriously? You aren't fucking with me?”

Brendon shakes his head. “Nope, now give me your number.”


	10. Chapter 10

Josh lays on his back, reading a novel that he's been meaning to get around to reading, when Tyler comes stalking over from the couch, looking totally suspicious, phone in hand. “So, Josh, what do you have planned for the next few months?”

“Work and sleep,” Comes his quiet and sort of meek response. “Any particular reason you're asking…?”

“Well,” He starts as he invites himself onto Josh's air mattress, which is about half deflated, since he hasn't gotten around to blowing it back up again. Josh's body just about gets flung up into the air from the force of Tyler flopping down next to him. “I just had a chat with none other than Brendon freakin' Urie, and he just finished hashing out the details of that little tour he was telling us about a few months ago.”

“Mhm,” Josh acts as if he isn't paying attention, but he knows that Tyler can tell he's just staring at the same spot on the page of the book. “Anything else…?”

“Well, I kind of need a drummer. Or, well, I don't _need_ one, but you need to get out of LA for a while, and I need to give in to that need I have for adventure.”

“Moving from Ohio to LA with fifteen hundred bucks in your bank account wasn't enough?”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Dog ear the page of that book and look at me, dude. I am speaking to you.”

“What are you? My grandpa?” Josh mutters as he follows Tyler's instructions.

“I am. Anyways, like, do you wanna? Go with me, I mean.”

“I have a job, dude. I can't just up and leave for two months.”

“Talk to your boss maybe…?”

“I'm not friends with my boss like you are with yours.”

“Then quit? Joe already told me that he'd waive the rent for a few months if the thing with Brendon panned out, so, like, you still got a bit of time to figure out your half of the rent when we get back…?”

Josh scoffs. “Dude. I can't _quit.”_

“Sure you can. Just call your boss, tell him you quit, then we'll pack up my laptop, the keyboard, and enough clothes to last us. Brendon's gonna be in LA again in a few weeks to see Dallon, and to kick off the tour.”

“What about drums? I can't just drum with my mouth or something.”

“Oh! That! Yeah.” Tyler pecks Josh on the forehead, and grins at him. “I already got that figured out. We still don't have enough money to buy a drum kit, let alone find a way to travel with one, _but,_ the thing is—Brendon has a drummer. With a drum kit. A drummer with a drum kit that he's willing to share with you before their set.”

“I'm not even that good, Tyler.”

“I've seen you use Andy's drums at the bar, dude. You're _phenomenal.”_

“I don't even know how your songs go.”

Tyler just shrugs. “Wing it, then. I don't even have anything specific worked out for most of them as far as drums go anyways.”

“So, let me get this straight—I'm about to quit my job just so we can go on a tour with some band that hardly anyone has even heard of?”

“Precisely. That's part of being my best friend—doing dumb shit with me.”

“Even if that dumb shit includes quitting my job just to join a band with you so we can tour across the western half of the United States?”

“You wanna be in a band?”

Just rubs his chin for a second with his thumb and index finger, pursing his lips, before nodding. “Hell yeah. Let's start a band, bro. Just the two of us.”

“We're gonna need a name.”

“You're responsible for that. I just drum. You do all the fun stuff.”

Tyler jabs him in the arm. “Hey, you're important too.”

* * *

 

Josh quits his job a few days before Brendon pops up in Los Angeles again. He's expecting Tyler to drag him to a restaurant or something to meet with the now eighteen year old, but, instead, he finds himself colored with surprised when he opens the apartment door to see the boy looking all charismatic and excited at eight in the freaking morning. “Josh! Hey!”

“Tyler's at work.”

“I know. Dallon told me. Figured we could do some bonding. You busy?”

“I was asleep.”

“So no?”

Josh sighs. _Here he is. Tyler 2.0. Waking me up too early, expecting me to go do things with him. The only difference is that I don't know him, and that I don't have any reason to do anything with him._ “I guess not. Uh. Why are you here?”

“I wanna chat. We're gonna spend a few months together, in close proximity, so I figure we should make sure we get along, and if we don't, then we should make sure to compromise so we don't fight, y'know?”

Josh shrugs, and invites Brendon inside. “Uh. Where do you wanna chat…?”

“Figured we could go get something to eat. I'm hungry, and it don't look like you got much to do here, so, yeah.” The boy shrugs, and in a fashion similar to Tyler, he looks around the apartment with eyes that are a little too wide and perceptive for Josh's liking. Both of them are the kind of people who can know everything about you with just a look.

“Not wrong on the last part. Can you be trusted… alone… in here… while I shower?” Josh is vaguely motioning around the room with his hand after each pause in his question.

“Yeah, like I'm going to steal your Mac from, like, 2009. Go shower, dude.”

“Just making sure. Also, it isn't mine. It's Tyler's.”

* * *

 

Brendon intimidates Josh. A lot. The older boy is shy, and doesn't particularly enjoy being pushed out of his bubble, but Brendon—he's so _outgoing, loud, in your face—_ he's there, and just from what Josh has seen in the past thirty minutes of speaking to him—Brendon was meant for fame. Whatever he's doing with his band, whatever happens to that band—the boy is going to make it. Josh can feel it, and it intimidates him. He doesn't know what the hell's going to happen with the little stint he and Tyler are pulling, and he can't feel the guaranteed success when it comes to _that,_ but Brendon? Yeah, that guy is about to make it.

“Josh, how old are you?” Brendon asks, suddenly. “You look like you could be in your twenties, but you also look fifteen.”

“Eighteen. I turn nineteen in June.”

“Shit, seriously? I mean, now that you say it, I can see it, but I thought you were older.”

“Kind of like how Tyler thought to call you 'sir' when addressing you?” Josh quirks a brow, and Brendon cackles.

“Yeah, that.”

“So, uh, do we get along…? Do I pass your test? If it was a test, I guess.”

“You pass the test, dude. Though, you need to lighten up a bit. You're all...” He frowns, and sets his coffee down on the table in front of him so he can clench his fists together a little bit. “This. I can't find a word. Not surprising; it's why Ryan writes most of our songs, but like… you're so tense. Get a massage or something. Loosen up.”

“You don't even know me, dude.”

“I know, but you just give off a tight-ass vibe. We'll work on that.” Brendon winks, and the conversation moves on after that.

* * *

“We leave in a week,” Tyler announces as he walks into the apartment the afternoon after Brendon's little chat with Josh.

“A week?”

“A week. Also, there's a dude in Seattle that Brendon wants to introduce us to. Owns a record label or something.”

Josh winces. “A record label…?”

“Is it too much?” The nineteen year old asks as he makes himself at home just a little too close to Josh on the couch. “I mean, I get things with the band that's existed for, like, a month, going too fast, but there's a chance, and we gotta take it.”

“Kind of too much, but I'm just… scared. You get that?”

Tyler's voice loses the optimism and enthusiasm when he replies. Josh has noticed that the boy likes to act happy, as if nothing's wrong, or as if nothing can get to him, and he's not sure if Tyler's doing it for his sake, or if he just does it out of reflex. “I get that. Listen, man, you probably get being scared more than I do, but I've been scared since I moved here. I've been scared every day since I left home. Like, I don't have much stability, even with as much as I'd like to tell myself that I do, and I don't know what's going to happen every day. I figure that, until I have my life figured out, I'm gonna just do what I want, and I'm going to take chances to move ahead when I can. There's a guy in Seattle that could possibly further along my career, so if I have to suck up to him to do that, then I'm going to, y'know? If you don't wanna, then that's cool, but, like… we have a band, man. This is basically a marriage.”

Josh had kept his cool throughout Tyler's little speech, up until the last sentence, which leaves him giggling. “Alright, alright. We can talk to the guy. Doesn't this all seem a little too convenient?”

Tyler shrugs. “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Hate to do it, but, like, you only live once.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “I might have to hurt you for that.”

Tyler whines and leans on Josh with everything he has. “C'mon, J. Don't be like that. Don't leave Daddy Tyler hanging.”

And Josh more than giggles this time. “Shut up.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT UPDATED THIS SINCE NOVEMBER OMG

Tyler watches Josh with concern written all over his face. The younger of the two is hunched over against a wall in the venue they're at in the middle of bumfuck Oregon, trembling, and breathing erratically. "Josh, it's just fifty people. They'll probably be looking at me the whole time anyways. We've been over this."

Although slightly easier, Josh still finds it ridiculously difficult performing in front of big crowds like this. Brendon says fifty people isn't much, of course, but it is to both Josh and Tyler. Tyler, seeming to be a natural extrovert when need be, copes just fine with the crowd, hiding behind jackets and hats and whatever else his hands can grasp onto, whereas Josh just hits his drums as hard as he can hoping to forget about everything.

"D'ya want a good luck kiss?" Tyler asks a little slyly as he peels Josh's hands from over his eyes. "I don't know if it'd work, but I am a pretty lucky guy, so you should take me up on the offer."

Josh blinks his brown eyes and looks at Tyler's face. His eyebrows are knitted together out of concern, in the prettiest way, and the freckles on his cheeks are more noticeable to him for some reason. "No funny business. Just a kiss, okay?"

"Alright, J. No funny business. Just a quick kiss on the lips, and then we gotta go out." Tyler scans Josh's face for a few moments before leaning forward a little bit to close the distance between their lips. Josh melts, anxieties basically washing away almost immediately at the warmth of Tyler's lips against his own chapped ones.

\---

Josh is grinning almost maniacally once he and Tyler step off of the stage, and he basks in the numerous pats on the back he gets from Tyler and the other band that they're with. He's like this every night they have a show, but he has his small group of people to support him, thankfully.

It's a hotel night, so Josh makes quick work of getting back to Tyler's car. His legs are both bouncing and he smiles wide at Tyler when the older boy gets into the car. Tyler leans across the console to smack an excited kiss to Josh's lips, and they giggle to themselves before Tyler starts heading to the hotel they're supposed to be staying at. The next day is the day they're supposed to be in Washington to talk to the record label guy, and Josh, honestly, has been trying not to think about it, lest he gets himself worked up.

Either way, Josh does end up staying up until three, trying to get his nerves under control, and trying to focus on small irrelevant things, like the way Tyler's pressed against his back with an arm around his waist, or the way the analog clock glows red in his face, and possibly also the way the street lamps outside illuminate the room dimly.

"I can, like, hear you thinking, bro," Tyler mumbles with a yawn. "I can tell you ain't asleep. You're always tense and not fun to spoon whenever you're awake."

"A lot is happening all at once," Josh replies quietly.

He feels Tyler nod against his neck. "I know, Josh. I'm used to a lot happening at once, I guess."

"How do you deal?"

"Drink booze, sleep, smoke Brendon's pot, _sleep..."_

"So, be an alcoholic drug addict who sleeps all day? Or are you trying to tell me to sleep?" Josh shoots back, quietly and playfully.

"All of it."

"Isn't he stingy on weed?"

"He's eighteen now and I'm good at bribing."

Josh scoffs and elbows Tyler gently. "You're a slut. Oh my god. I'm best friends with a slut."

"A slut that you're also in a band with and a slut you're gonna get famous with."

"Fame sounds scary."

"Yeah. I wish I could, like... stay anonymous, but I have bills to pay, man. So do you."

\---

Tyler, Josh, and Dallon, who just so happens to be in Washington for whatever fucking reason, probably for Brendon and for sex, stand awkwardly by while Brendon and the rest of his band basically assault the record label guy on all fronts with a giant group hug. Tyler coughs awkwardly, and Brendon's head turns so he can say, "This guy is basically our dad."

"Twenty seven and I already have four eighteen year old kids," The guy comments seemingly wistfully.

Tyler huffs and puts one hand on his hip, then wraps his other arm around Josh's shoulders. Josh crosses his arms, and looks around the small office they're in curiously, and Dallon sucks on a lollipop while checking his email.

The guy eventually gets the four eighteen year olds to let go of him, and once that happens, he's walking over to Tyler and Josh, a hand out. Josh shakes it first, smiling awkwardly, and Tyler shakes it second, smiling not as awkwardly and as charismatically as he can.

He introduces himself as Pete, then shoos the other five people out of the room, saying, "Sons and son-in-law who is older than me, you all need to leave."

\---

"I thought we were, like, going to sign something _today...?"_ Tyler's saying with a small frown on his face when he finally gets a chance to talk with someone who, one, isn't Josh or Dallon, and, two, actually has experience with this kind of shit.

"He wanted to talk to you, and to see if you were, like... legit. Guess that's how you'd phrase it. Don't be surprised if he pops up at the venue tonight," Ryan's the one to answer Tyler while the younger of the two (Ryan) ties his shoes.

"Pete's a cool guy, trust me, but he's not stupid and he's not the kind of guy who's going to do something simply because we're friends. Or, well, simply because me, Ryan, Spencer, and Jon are friends. Maybe Dallon by association. Do you think Dallon would be a friend by association?" 

"If dads or father figures are usually friends with their son's fuck buddies who are ten years older than them, then yeah, maybe," Ryan quips back almost instantly with a slightly pointed look thrown at his friend, one which makes Tyler snort.

"Anyways, you guys are good, so don't worry about it. Also, don't try too hard tonight. He hates try hards."

"You literally sent him an email and trash talked him, then gave him MP3s of a few of our songs. You are _so_ not one to talk."

"That's the thing--I wasn't trying, _Ryan._ I figured he wasn't even going to answer us, so I didn't bother trying. Luckily, it worked out."

The conversation gets cut off there by someone coming to retrieve Tyler and Josh, saying they only have a few minutes until it's _showtime._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short but still a chapter ig

Things with Pete don't pan out, and apparently won't pan out until they, essentially, gain more of a following. Tyler gets it--it'd be hard to do anything with a duo that literally no one has even heard of before--but it still bums him out a little bit, no matter how much he's told that he and Josh are talented and show real promise.

The tour ends late in May, and Tyler and Josh go back to their everyday lives. Josh gets another job, and they just... do their thing.

\---

The first thing Tyler buys with the bit of extra money he has is a bed. It's a full sized bed, not too big, not too small, but it's big enough for him to share with Josh, and also small enough to where it doesn't take up all of the space in the one bedroom in their small apartment. Josh pitches in and buys a bed set for it, and the first night in that new bed with new sheets and blankets, the two boys sleep the soundest either of them have slept in years.

They wake up around the same time the next morning, and they both stare at each other for a while before Josh is making a move, moving his head forward to give into some weird, overwhelming urge to kiss Tyler. He can feel Tyler smiling into it, and either of them end up in a fit of giggles. "You're going to have to work on your kissing skill, Josh. That was so weak."

Josh just responds by kissing him again. The moment isn't really romantic, honestly. Intimate, sure, but not romantic. Affectionate, maybe, but, again, not romantic. Tyler runs his fingers through Josh's hair, which is a little tangled and needs to be brushed. "This is a little gay, Josh."

Josh groans a little bit and nudges Tyler with a grin on his face. "Shut up."

Tyler chuckles and pecks Josh on the lips. "Listen, I would, but we have shit to do today."

"I just want to sleep, man."

"So do I, but I want to work on some music stuff. I can do most of it on my own, but you're the drum prodigy here, and you always have good feedback on lyrics. Also, I have to go sing for pennies in front of the crowd at the diner, and you obviously gotta be there for that."

"But, I could also sleep."

"Well, while you sleep, I guess I'll just have to walk to Krispy Kreme and Starbucks all on my own," Tyler drawls out as he rolls out of the bed and into a standing position.

Josh makes a face. "Totally unfair. I'm so tired, man. You can't be mean to me like that."

"Of course I can." Tyler sticks his tongue out. "C'mon. We should go get coffee and donuts before the rent bankrupts us."

\---

It's really hot in Los Angeles, meaning Tyler and Josh are standing outside of a Dutch Bros after finding out that, unfortunately, Starbucks was out of their price range. Josh is sipping a blended caramel macchiato, with bites of donuts in between, and Tyler's working on getting his mango smoothie down before he starts eating his own donut.

"Tyler, you look like you're about to die."

"I'm from Ohio. Of course I'm about to fucking die. It's so, _so_ hot here."

"You'll get used to it," Josh reassures him.

"I hope so. At least I don't get sunburns, y'know?"

Josh nods knowingly. "Yeah."

"I think as far as band stuff goes," Tyler starts, changing the subject, "I'm going to try to put together a demo kind of album, and see if I can't get Pete to sign us. I have a lot of songs _written,_ but none recorded."

"How many songs?" Josh asks around a mouthful of donut.

"I have so many songs written, but I'm going to try to pick a group of ten or so that sound similar. Also, I have an idea of what we should name the band."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"In my senior year, we read a play called All My Sons, and, like--" Tyler goes in depth, explaining what the play was about. "Anyways, since the play is about a sort of... moral dilemma, choosing between easy and right, I just... I figured twenty one pilots would be a good name. It's a mouthful, but it's also memorable, y'know?"

Josh repeats the name a few times, before deciding that he likes it. "It sounds good. I think I can dig it."

"Awesome."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter rip

Tyler makes a YouTube channel for his and Josh's newly named band, plus a SoundCloud account. It's at this point he explicitly reveals himself to his followers on both twitter and SoundCloud. He's always been secretive about his identity online, but he figures if he's starting a band, then it's time.

Within a few hours of publishing a tweet to ask his followers to check out a few songs he and Josh had been working on, Josh has to take a few minutes to ask, "Why are you so skittish right now?"

"I have some weird anxiety thing about people on the internet knowing who I am. I don't know why."

"People love you and your music, man. Also, I mean, I'm kind of weird lookin' but my picture is up with yours on the one music site. You probably look great compared to me." Josh reasons with him, smiling slightly.

"It's not even about how I look. I don't know how to explain it. It's too late now, though. I've already done it, so there's nothing I can really do, I guess. Also, I think we kind of needed to do this, because I want to share our music. I'm proud of it, and I want other people to hear it. Also, by the way, you aren't weird looking. I think you're very handsome. No homo."

Josh rolls his eyes, blushes a little bit, and nudges Tyler a bit. 

\---

Tyler posts about performing a set at the diner he works at a few weeks after dropping a few songs, and he's expecting maybe a few people to show up, but when he actually gets there, he sees a fucking _line_ out of the door. Josh tenses up as soon as he notices, and Tyler takes him by the hand, saying, "We can just go in through the back. Andy shouldn't give a shit."

Andy doesn't happen to be there that night, but Patrick is, mumbling something about Andy being busy. He's asking, "What the fuck is with the line?" as soon as he sees Tyler, though.

Tyler shuffles his feet a little bit and asks, "Do you happen to have a computer here? I have a bit of an idea why."

Patrick waves an arm, and Josh follows Tyler who is following Patrick. They're led to the office that Tyler was in when he originally got this job. There's a computer, one that wasn't there before, so Tyler figures it's new. He's quick about opening Google Chrome, and typing in his username on Twitter.

His eyes bug out of his skull when he sees that instead of five thousand followers, he has _fifty_ thousand. It's been _two weeks,_ and he suddenly has fifty thousand followers. He checks the YouTube channel he made for twenty one pilots, and gasps a little bit when he sees that the channel already has a little under a hundred thousand subscribers.

And one of the videos, the one for Trees, has a little under a million views.

"Um. Well, apparently, one of the songs I posted blew the fuck up, and a lot of people live in Los Angeles. I would assume that's why." Tyler scratches his chin. "Should I just... go out there and sing...?"

"Um, _yeah._ If there's _that_ many people, we're _all_ going to make a fucking killing tonight. Though, you might have to suck up to Gabe, since he's the one bartending."

Josh raises a hand. "Um. I--I've bar tended a few times. I can help if he needs."

"I need you for drums, though," Tyler whines, pouting slightly.

"It's up to Josh. Gabe can handle himself, though, so do what you want."

\---

Tyler gets nervous when he sees people with phones out, recording him. He introduces himself then introduces Josh; "--and give it up for the beautiful Josh Dun on the drums!"

Josh gives Tyler a dirty look and mouths, "Shut the fuck up," at him.

Tyler makes a heart with his hands, and makes a kissy face.

Josh flips him off with a bored look on his face.

\---

Tyler holds up four hundred dollars and he and Josh start walking back towards the apartment later that night. They're over the moon about how well the performance went, and, hey, they made enough money to cover a little under half their rent, so that's always a plus.

Josh just about jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm getting thrown around his shoulders, but he's relieved to hear Dallon's voice saying, "Hey boys. How's it going."

"Ah, yes. The magical Karen from Finance." Tyler takes a second to hug... her? Josh isn't sure right now. "We're doing great. We, uh, had a good night as far as tips go."

"How good?" Blue eyes are wide and eyebrows are raised.

"Like, almost four hundred dollars good." Tyler answers.

"No shit?"

"No shit was involved," Josh confirms.

The threesome continues walking, and Tyler explains how their night was that good. "I posted the audio to three songs, and one of them like... blew up, or whatever. So many fucking people followed me on Twitter, and a lot of them showed up tonight. It was intense but exhilarating."

"Sounds sweet. Anyways, I have shit to do. I saw Tyler's jacket and figured I'd say 'hi.'"

Tyler and Josh both end up with purple lipstick on either of their cheeks before she's (?) walking off.


End file.
